Page 22 of Hard to Fake

He turns over my question. “Love is about respect. Friendship is love. Family is love. Mutually beneficial banging, like really good fucking, well, that’s a kind of love too. And maybe there’s something more than all of that.”

I survey him with new appreciation. He’s objectively gorgeous. His blue eyes stare straight into your soul. His big hands make you wonder what they’d feel like on your body. He’s got the kind of confidence that puts other people at ease.

Sure, Miles is always smack in the middle of every joke or prank, but in that way where even if he’s everywhere and loud and laughing, he somehow leaves you wanting more.

He’s the kind of guy any girl would love to have on her arm at a party.

Or a reunion.

I’m remembering how he had my back the other night at Mile High, no questions asked.

“Most people give me shit for not thinking before I act.”

“I like you better when you don’t.”

Alcohol buzzes through my veins, whispering seductive promises to my brain.

“Hey, Miles, if I asked you to do something crazy for me, would you do it?” The voice is far away but sounds like mine.

“Are we talking felony or misdemeanor?” Miles’s brow lifts, and he looks even more charmingly wicked.

There are bad ideas and then there are Bad Ideas. The kind that you regret for years.

If I was sober, I’d recognize which one this was.

As it stands, I blame the booze burning my throat, the ugly surprise over Caroline parading around my ex at the reunion, and the dazzling veneer that is Miles Garrett, shining like a six-pack-boasting mirage I can practically taste.

“Take me to Vail for the weekend,” I call over the music. “Act like you’re obsessed with me.”

His smile freezes.

“There's a sorority reunion and I need a date,” I add. Probably should have led with that. “Not a real date. Just a fake one.”

Finally, he blinks. “And you're asking me because…?"

I tap my lip. "I'm drunk and you’ll go out with anyone.”

“That’s what you think of my standards,” he scoffs.

“That’s what I know of your standards.”

Miles covers his heart with a hand as if my words are a bullet ripping through him. “I’ll have you know I have enjoyed the company of some upstanding women.”

“You’ve ‘enjoyed’ so many that it would be hard not to.”

He grins, a genuine intrigue on his face as he studies me. Like he’s never really seen me before.

“There you are!” Aliya comes up with a smile that’s only for him. “I know you’ve been looking everywhere for me.”

Her catsuit looks painted on, and she beams as her hand finds Miles’s bicep. Her appearance and possessiveness hit me like the icy water from the garden pond.

My eyes roll so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Hi, Aliya.” I waggle my fingers.

“Have we met?”

“Yeah. It’s Brooke.”

“Right. Brock.”

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